The Prices We Pay
by ffic4life
Summary: AU. Full Summary Inside. Inspired by the movie Notting Hill. Noah Puckerman is a business man's son. Kurt is a coffee bar owner. Will their love story have a happy ending when Noah's dad is hiding Noah in the closet?


**Title:** The Prices We Pay  
**Rating:** NC-17/M  
**Characters:** Glee Cast Ensemble  
**Character Pairing:** Puck/Kurt, Blaine/Kurt (a little bit, not a focal point), Finn/Rachel, Burt/Carole, Sam/Mercedes, Mike/Tina, Brittany/Santana, Artie/OC, Will/Emma, Quinn/Finn, Quinn/OC  
**Word Count: **5,937  
**Genre:** Slash, Romance/Angst, Humor  
**Summary: **AU - _Inspired by the movie Notting Hill_ – Noah Puckerman is Nathaniel Puckerman's, business mogul, son. At nineteen he finds himself hiding in the closet because of the kind of wrath he'd face from his father if he were to ever come out. Until one day he meets Kurt Hummel, a coffee bar owner that shows him some unexpected kindness, and his life slowly begins to take a different path. But is it one that'll last since they live in two entirely different worlds?  
**Disclaimer:** As much as I'm sure we all wish and dream we do, I do not own Glee or anyone associated with it. I am not writing for profit, merely for kicks and giggles.  
**Warnings: **AU,Homophobia, M/M Sexual Situations, Language, Verbal Abuse, Violence, OOC, and Outing  
**Author's Note: **Hello my peoples! I know, it's another NC-17, but hey! It's me, so of course it is! LOL And I hope you enjoy this. My inspiration was the movie Notting Hill; but I want to warn you that it is _inspired_. Meaning it is not exactly _like. _Hopefully that clears up any confusion, and people don't go, _"Wait a minute! That didn't happen in the movie." _This was originally for LJ's PuckurtBigBang, but I have decided to not wait for the fest to post. A) Because I don't have the time to devote to this story that I want, B) It's turning out to be one of those stories that are going to take a while if it is to be written properly, and C) Nobody wanted to do art for it. Anyway, comments are love! Thanks for reading my stories!

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Nothing is as it seems.

This is what Noah Elijah Puckerman has been told his whole life.

It can be completely sunny outside and make you think it's going to be a good day to wear shorts and tank tops; but then you walk outside and it's actually forty degrees and your body might as well be an icicle in those shorts and tank tops.

(Thanks weatherman, by the way, for _not_ predicting rain. Didn't need an umbrella anyway. I like to be soaking wet, _really_.)

People can be shopping on Rodeo Drive, smiling and happy about the ridiculously expensive dress they just bought with all their sorority friends; and then go home to their shack and wonder how they are going to afford to pay for a box of mac n cheese, since they don't have a job or anyway to support themselves.

But nobody knows that right away.

No.

Because nothing is as it seems. Everybody has a secret…especially Noah.

What is it, you ask? Well he's gay. And a _total_ virgin. And a complete dork that actually wears glasses and thinks that reading is a great way to spend an afternoon.

But, you see, no one can know that.

They all think he's a straight man-whore who's current flame is Rachel Berry, Broadway's biggest breakout star since Kristen Chenoweth.

They all think he's a foulmouthed jerk, and on the outside he kind of is.

But that's only because he isn't allowed to be who he really is on the inside. A quiet, sensitive nineteen year old that loves his cat, Snickers, and hanging out with his best friend Rachel. Yeah. They do have some right to think they're an item since they do everything together, but really Rachel is just being a good friend through helping save his reputation by not disputing dating rumors.

And he's thankful for that, because his father, Nathaniel, has been breathing down his neck about being with a girl since he was ten and old enough to know the difference. Nathaniel, the founder and CEO of On the Networks Investments, doesn't accept who he is. In fact, he threated to disown him entirely if he ever comes out and embarrasses the company he is the sole heir for. For this reason, Noah hides under a false pretense of a devil may care attitude and loads of money.

Money he rarely accesses in large amounts.

He just likes to follow Rachel around stores and help her pick things out for her apartment.

Which was actually what he was currently doing, if he would get out of his thoughts and pay attention.

"…but, you know, I also kinda like the sandalwood. It has an earthy smell. Don't you think, Noah?"

He snaps his head in her direction, realizing he'd been staring at candles for a long time and not listening to a word that was being said.

Rachel's eyes narrow in annoyance, "You were spacing on me again, weren't you?"

He gives a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Rach," he sighs. "I guess the candles just aren't speaking to me today."

She snorts and puts the two candles she was holding on the shelf, "I should hope inanimate objects weren't speaking to you, Noah; but I was, and you only space out on me when something's bothering you."

Noah rolls his eyes at her raised eyebrow and follows her down the aisle towards the bath oil stuff. "It's nothing more than the usual," he says and picks up a eucalyptus scented bubble bath bottle. He smells it then wrinkles his nose and puts it back.

Rachel, seeing this, hands him the rose bottle, "I don't see how you don't like eucalyptus spearmint, its relaxing."

"It's fucking _weird_. It smells like you overdosed on gum…or Altoids," he replies and nods appreciatively from a whiff of the rose. "That's nice. Get that."

She nods her head and takes it with her as they continue through the store. "Did you have another argument with your dad?"

Noah's mood completely sours at that question, and he sits in one of the big circular chairs as he watches Rachel look at decorative pillows. "Not since a week ago, but I have meeting with him tomorrow. Apparently there's the Annual Business Benefit Gala coming up next month, so he wants to discuss it with me."

"In other words," she says as she picks up a hot pink, sparkly pillow, "he wants to know who you're bringing?"

"Put that _horrendous_ thing back, Rachel Barbra Berry!" Noah says with horror in his voice. "You aren't twelve."

She pouts, "But it's _cute_!"

"But it's _sparkly._ And _pink_. And what's it going to match?" Noah raises an eyebrow, the horror not having left his face.

"I can find something," she says and hugs it closer. Noah remains with the challenging eyebrow and she finally scowls and sets it down. "Spoil sport."

"You love me," he chuckles. "I save you from picking horrible stuff."

She snorts and crosses her arms. "You didn't answer my question."

Noah sighs and leans forward to rest his elbows on his legs, "Essentially yes."

"He's such an ass," Rachel growls. "His only son and he can't even act like a father."

Noah looks at her with sad eyes, "Rach, we've been over this. In his mind, he is being a father."

"But Noah," Rachel cries and comes forward to sit next to him on the small space leftover, "you aren't happy. I want you to be happy."

Noah shakes his head, "Happiness hasn't ever been in the cards. And that's okay, really. I've learned to accept things as they are. I have you." He points out with a shrug

"But that isn't living, sweetie," Rachel says and hugs her best friend. "You should be allowed to find your love."

Noah leans into her and takes a breath. "I'm a little afraid of _love _after your last beau," he says with a smirk.

Rachel scowls and sits back, "You know what? Just for bringing Jesse up, I'm getting that pillow."

Noah laughs hysterically.

As they leave the store, they link arms as usual and stroll towards Rachel's car, Noah carrying Rachel's two bags.

"So, you know my friend, Blaine?" She eventually says, trying to talk over the loud sounds of the cars and horns. New York has never been known for its nice drivers.

Noah nods and reaches forward to push the crosswalk button.

Of course he knows Blaine Anderson. He's only Broadway's finest set director in the history of _ever_…or so Rachel says anyway. Everybody who's anybody on the stage wants to be able to say they've worked on his stuff.

He's apparently _that_ brilliant.

And Noah's a good friend. He attends all of Rachel's new shows and congratulates her with bouquets of roses. So it's not like he hasn't seen the mastery work that is Blaine Anderson. But if he is being totally honest…he doesn't really understand what the hell the fuss is about.

"I've set him up on a date," she says excitedly.

That gets his attention. "What? With who?"

"Some guy named Kurt Hummel," She replies as they begin to walk across the street, not noticing his faraway look. "Quinn knows him."

"Who?" he asks and shifts the bags in his hands, trying not to show how sad he was.

"Oh, you've met her once or twice. She's the composer of my last musical," she tells an unresponsive Noah. "But Kurt owns some coffee shop, and apparently Quinn and he went to school together back in Ohio. So since both Blaine and he are single, we figured they should give it a shot."

Noah doesn't say anything, just nods.

Rachel looks at him and her mouth forms a thin line. "I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound, sweetie."

Noah looks at her with a confused frown, "What?" When he sees her face, he can tell she's upset with herself. "Oh, Rach, no," he tells her and stops walking. "Okay, look, I'm happy for your friend. Blaine is cool…_mostly_…and I'm sure this..._Kurt _person is nice too. Just ignore my internal angst. I'm fine!" He even forces a smile.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, "No you're not. But I'll let you keep lying to me, because my car is right there."

They walk the twenty feet to the car and hug after Noah puts the bags in the back seat.

"You'll call me later, right?" Rachel asks as she starts walking to the driver's side.

"Course," Noah replies with a little wave.

She blows him a kiss, "Love ya."

He smiles and sends her one back.

He watches her leave and sighs to himself while he stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps walking towards his condo building. It's a busy evening. And warm. So the leather jacket he's wearing isn't exactly appropriate attire; but the morning had been chilly, and didn't we mention untrustworthy weather earlier?

Anyway, Noah Puckerman is someone who is seen but not understood. He loves Rachel to death, and he feels very fortunate to be blessed with a business genius of a father who makes enough money to rival Donald Trump. But the world he exists in isn't him.

And he hates it.

He hates going to clubs and looking at happy couples while pretending to be interested in the girls that wanna dance with him. He hates being forced to attend parties with rich business moguls he has nothing in common with as they examine him like gum on their shoe. He hates acting like a jerk in front of the media so people don't pick up on how fucking sad he is. He hates that he has never had sex with anyone because the risk of it leaking to the world it wasn't with a girl is just too high. He hates he's being portrayed as a slut because girls he's never even talked to have claimed to have slept with him and the media eats it up, while he has to sit and endure the backlash of the names people call him and not do anything about it because that would expose who he really is.

But most of all, he hates his father for forcing him to hide in the closet and causing all of the other problems.

He hates not being loved for who he is.

With that thought hanging, he hears a flash and curses, turning and seeing a photographer. "Really?" he questions no one in particular and keeps walking.

But there's another one in front of him. He growls and keeps going, covering his eyes briefly from the harsh flash. Before long, there's at least seven tailing him; and Noah wonders where the hell they all came from, but he so isn't in the mood to deal with it in his usual style. He just wants to be left alone for a while.

Through the shouts of questions and flashes, Noah can barely think and for some reason he has an absurd urge to want to start crying. But this was his life. Never able to just be himself. Not even for a day. His every move was documented and scrutinized and made fun of…and he just wants it all to end.

Was that so bad? To just be able to be a normal nineteen year old that has a normal boyfriend and can go on normal dates and have normal sex-well hopefully more than _normal _sex, but at least have sex with the normal boyfriend he goes on normal dates with.

Not being able to stand it any longer, he opens the door to a coffee shop he's never been in before and heads straight to the very back, ignoring the _"Please wait to be seated" _sign and sitting in a circular booth. He ducks his head down where the windows can't see him and lets off a little sob. After a moment he sucks in a breath and stops his tears.

He isn't allowed to break down in public. They would crucify him in the tabloids for it…but the truth is, he never asked for this life.

He never asked to be Nathaniel Puckerman's son.

He never asked to be gay and alone.

"Excuse me," comes an irritated voice from the right.

Noah looks up, thankful his forming tears had receded a few seconds ago, and sees a man with rich brown hair holding a coffee pot and wearing a uniform with an aggravated expression on his face. He takes a second to look the man over. He looks to be a little older than he is himself, but not by much and certainly just as world weary.

It makes Noah wonder if this is where the guy saw himself fresh out of college. Working as a coffee barista and yelling at annoying customers that bring a scene with them that's likely to run other customers away.

"You're supposed to wait at the front for one of the waiters to _seat_ you. We're a high class coffee bar, not a Starbucks," the man finishes and raises an eyebrow.

Noah can tell that while he may be _irritated_, he isn't totally _pissed_. And for that he's actually grateful. He doesn't think he could handle getting into a yelling match with someone over the significance of a chair, since all he wanted was an escape for the outside world for a few minutes.

"I-I'm sorry," he starts and gives this person his best apologetic look. It's kind of been awhile since he's used it with anyone besides Rachel. "I didn't mean to just barge in here," he continues and winces when he hears the shouts get louder from the outside and someone come close enough to the window to bang it with their camera as they take pictures. "I just wanted somewhere to get away from all that-that…_nonsense_ out there." He bites his lip and sucks in a breath, looking away from the barista, "I promise you I'll give you the biggest tip of your life if you _just_ let me sit here for a little while."

The man seems to asses him critically before finally nodding his head. "Okay then. I've always thought of myself as a relatively merciful human being, so let me go get you a menu and try and do something about the people who don't seem to know when to leave a person alone."

Noah looked up at him with startled eyes, "You wouldn't-you don't have to do that."

The man just shook his head and took a couple steps over to the counter to pick up a menu. "You seem like you could use a break, and I for one know _exactly_ how that feels. Just sit there and decide what you want to drink, I'll take care of the rest. Coffee, I've found, fixes most problems. And anyway, I kinda have to get rid of the camera goons. It's scaring customers away."

The last comment was sent with a smirk full of laughter and it made Noah smile.

Truly smile.

This barista was treating him like a normal human being, and not a celebrity. It was so foreign he didn't even know how to react.

"I don't know how to thank you, umm…" he trails off, not noticing a name tag.

"Kurt," he supplies with a grin, and if Noah didn't have such iron clad control over himself after so many years of practice, he would literally swoon.

"…_Kurt,_" he tastes the name on his tongue and smiles brightly, "I'm Noah." When Kurt chuckles a little, Noah realizes how stupid that probably sounded. "I mean, you probably know who I am but – "

"Yeah, I know who you are," he nods and just continues to smile in amusement, "but it was nice of you to introduce yourself. Let me go get rid of your stalkers."

And before Noah can say anything else to redeem himself from his total stupidity, the kind barista turns around in search of a phone.

Noah sits and stares at the menu for a few minutes, feeling like his heart just grew about two sizes with joy. He had never met anyone that treated him like a perfectly normal person before. It was a nice change. One he would love to get used to.

When a waitress comes to take his coffee order, he gets a medium cup of their house blend and one of their fancy looking sandwiches. The waitress, a girl with dark skin and pretty eyes, tells him he made an excellent choice. And when he sees _Kurt _meet the police outside to have them escort the paparazzi hoard away from his store shortly thereafter, he thinks that maybe he did.

~K&P~

Boxing up the last of the leftover pastries, Kurt wipes at his brow and sets them in the large walk-in refrigerator they have in the back. He takes quick stock of what's in there and writes it on his sheet before coming back out and hanging the clipboard on the door.

He sighs.

Being a high class coffee bar owner was hard work, but it was also his whole life. He gets so much joy out of perfecting new recipes for Frappuccino's and lattes, that he really couldn't imagine himself anywhere else. At twenty-one, Kurt Hummel was exactly where he wanted to be professionally. He made quite a bit of money – not millions, but enough to be more than middle class – and worked with wonderful people.

What else was there that he needed?

Coming into the store front, he smiles at his employee and friend Mercedes Jones. She is cleaning the leftover crumbs and spills on the tables and humming a song. Hearing that girl sing never fails to bring tears to his eyes, for more than just how beautiful it is.

In high school he always thought he would find his bliss on a Broadway stage, but he could have never been more wrong. Working as a waiter in bistros and things of the like showed him his true calling. And getting the door slammed in his face repeatedly for the few auditions he did get, helped him realize that that cut-throat environment just wasn't him.

So when he heard this girl sing, it reminded him of memories of high school. Trying and failing to be number one in the Drama and Glee Clubs. He had been so naïve.

"Jennifer Hudson's got nothing on you," he tells her from behind the counter with a grin as he begins to count the register.

Mercedes laughs and finishes up the last table. "Boy you know I'm not dumb enough to try and get my name up in lights. Stop trying to convince me otherwise," she says and comes behind the counter to help him start closing out the credit card machine.

"Not trying to convince, just giving a little compliment."

Truth is he _is _trying to convince her otherwise. Where Kurt has never had the meanness in him to fight his way through the crowd of people who would _literally_ kill you for a role, Mercedes does. She has enough fire to start and make it to the very top. But no matter what he says, she just doesn't listen.

"_I don't need Broadway or thousands of screaming fans, Boo. I got you to be my cheerleader," _she would always say.

Didn't mean that Kurt wouldn't stop trying.

"Sure," she laughs.

Together they finish the close-out rather quickly; and as Mercedes runs to check and make sure all the lights are off in the back, Kurt takes one of the twenties from the bank deposit and slips it in her purse with a satisfied smile. She'd find it later and thank God for the little cash fairy He sent her way.

Kurt, when he can, tries to help her out. She's his best friend, and he tries to take care of his people.

"Good to go back there," she says and Kurt nods.

They grab their stuff and head to the front door, closing and locking the front door then pulling the gate across the windows and locking that too. In New York, you really could never be too careful. They go their separate ways with a hug and Kurt smiles when Mercedes kisses his cheek.

On the walk home, Kurt takes his time to reassess what happened that day. Meeting Noah Puckerman had been interesting. The teenage son of the world's billionaire had been far kinder than he would've imagined. Not to mention seemed rather sad and in need of someone to just cut him slack.

It had been an honor for Kurt to be the one to do so. And the poor boy looked as if he could've burst into tears from gratitude.

And left a thousand dollar tip! Who carries around that kind of cash? Seriously.

But it's not about the money. It's about the fact that there seemed to be more to that guy than what one sees in tabloids. And the small part of Kurt that still believes in fairytales, wishes he could have the chance to be the one that sweeps the teen off his feet.

But that was foolish thinking. What were the chances Noah Puckerman would ever come back to his coffee place again? And anyway, tomorrow he had a blind date to attend.

It's a known fact that Kurt hasn't been in a relationship since he dropped out of college two years ago. Why? Mostly because he's been focusing on getting his coffee place up and successful; but also because after his last relationship, he's needed a break. He loved David Karofsky with all his heart, but when he decided that he didn't think New York was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life, they had to go their separate ways. Kurt's dream was New York…well, New York with Dave. But Dave was far too attached to Ohio to ever really be happy anywhere else.

And Kurt understands. Really. He's glad Dave is back where he's most happy, and that they didn't have a bitter break up. That it wasn't over someone cheating or falling out love or anything that would make it impossible to be friends. He just wishes that Dave would have been more willing to embrace the change and stay with him.

And for that reason, he's needed the break. For as much as he loved Dave and he was sure Dave loved him, he didn't love him enough to stay. He didn't feel Kurt was worth the risk.

Coming up on his pea gravel paved stairs that led up to his quaint cream colored townhouse, he sighs. The lights are shining through the dirty windows and dreadful drapes. That means Finn is here and doing something Kurt will probably want to tear his hair out over…or not. He loves his hair.

"Finn, I'm home," he calls out to his step-brother as he opens the old fashioned, heavy wooden door.

Immediately he hears the sounds of rock music coming from the kitchen and rolls his eyes. He takes his time removing his shoes and jacket, remembering to neatly put his keys in the bowl and walks into the small kitchen.

There he finds his step-brother in his bright white boxers with what was most likely the _entire_ content of his refrigerator, knowing Finn, out on the narrow island that apparently he was using to make what appeared to be a disgusting looking sandwich. But the thing that had Kurt gaping at his idiot of a brother was seeing him using rhubarb as a guitar as he was singing at the top of his lungs to a Def Leopard song.

"_Pour some sugar on me! Oooh in the name of love. Pour your sugar on me. Oooh, yeah fire me up!" _

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was far too tired to yell and kill his brother tonight. So it was time for a quick fix.

He crossed the room and switched the stereo off, before crossing his arms. He almost laughed when Finn dropped the rhubarb and turned panicked eyes his way.

"Oh! H-hey Kurt…how's it going?" Finn asked with a sheepish smile as he bent to pick up the dropped piece of vegetable.

Kurt just rolls his eyes…again. "Well, it was going _fine_, until I got home and found _you_ here making a mess in my kitchen and blasting that god-_awful_ music while using my fucking _veggies_ as your air guitar. Oh and by the way, nice boxers. Still have them after the Rocky Horror fiasco in high school?"

"They're new," he says indignantly. "And I didn't think you be home until, like, after midnight."

"_Finn_," Kurt huffs in annoyance, "It's 12:_10_. It _is_ after midnight. Now what are you doing in my house?"

"Well, you see, uh, Sam and the guys…they sorta…_kickedmeoutoftheapartment_," he mumbled the last part out, but it was enough for Kurt to understand.

"Again?"

His answer was a solemn nod.

Finn Hudson has been Kurt's pain in the ass since junior year, when Finn's mom met his dad. And it's not that he doesn't love Finn or anything, it's just that his brother has low sights for his future; and when his on again/off again band members kick him to the curb, it's _his _responsibility to put him up. Which wouldn't be a problem, if it weren't for things like _this_ incident and the frequency in which he moves in and out.

In Kurt's opinion, Finn needs to give up his rock star dreams – if for only a little while – and start working at his coffee bar to save up enough to get his _own_ place. So that way he can start learning how to be a responsible and independent human being. But Finn is nothing, if not stubborn in his belief that he's going to be the next Adam Levine. And Kurt is the one left having to support him when his dream falls through…again.

Kurt sighs and rubs his eyes, "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't _do_ anything…it was a creative difference."

"Creative difference?" He asks slowly. "You mean…_what_ exactly? You couldn't decide which song to sing?" Kurt laughs.

Finn scowls. "We happen to be more serious than just a cover band," he defends himself. "Well," he sighs and goes to sit down on the bar stool off the island, "at least I thought we were."

Kurt, taking pity on him, sits in the other seat and waits for the explanation.

"We got a gig to play in Soho, which like is the premier spot, right? But Sam and Artie wanted to do Guns 'n Roses, and I wanted to do the songs I've been writing. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show the crowd who we are."

"And let me guess," Kurt stops him with a rueful smile, "Sam didn't like that you were trying to do your songs and not his."

"Yeah, kind of. It wasn't that he _had _songs, it was just that he didn't want to use mine period. Said they were dumb," Finn looks like a kicked puppy as he picks up one of the chips that were strewn across the counter.

Kurt sighs. He knows he has a problem, always buying into Finn, but the boy was his younger brother. It was his job to protect him. So he shakes his head and says, "Fine you can stay…but you are coming to work at the store with me and starting to earn your own money. It's time you started saving for your own place."

"But Kurt," Finn whines and turns huge saucer like eyes his way, "I know jack shit about coffee. I'll probably burn myself!"

"Yes, you probably will," Kurt chuckles and stands to go get himself a bottle of water. "But that's part of growing up, Finn. Getting a stable job."

Finn harrumphs and sulks in his seat as Kurt twists open the lid to his bottle.

"So how have _you_ been, anyway? Now that you know _I'm_ broke off my ass and homeless again," Finn sighs and stands to finish what monstrosity he started earlier.

Kurt leans back against the counter, "I met Noah Puckerman today."

Finn nods his head as he shreds some lettuce, and then shoots a surprised look in his brother's direction when what was said sank in. "You met who? When? I mean, how? I mean, where?"

"You forgot, _what_," Kurt jokes and laughs at Finn's annoyed look. "He came into the store today about lunchtime," he finally explains. "Was being hounded by the paps so I let him hide while the police escorted his stalkers away."

"Stalkers?" Finn asks and off Kurt's blank look he put it together, "Oh the paparazzi. Got it." He looks back down and grabs some Lays to stack on his sandwich from Hell before asking, "So what was he like?"

"Surprisingly," Kurt says after another swig, "very shy…and seemed kinda, I don't know, sad."

Finn scoffs as he grabs both Swiss and American cheese. "He's like, richer than God. What's he got to be sad about? His daddy docked his trust fund by a million dollars? Please."

"People all have their own issues, Finn," Kurt chastises. "His may not be money, but it could be something else that is bothering him quite a bit."

"Like what?" Finn asks with a snort. "Didn't get enough B.J's from all the girls he's fucked? Come on, Kurt."

"I can't believe you're being so callous and judgmental, Finn," Kurt says with a disapproving glare. "People aren't always what they seem on television and in tabloids. Hell, people aren't always what they seem period. And I think Noah has some issues he doesn't know how to deal with. He just seemed so…defeated, I guess."

"Oh my god," Finn laughs. "You have a crush on him!"

"What?" Kurt splutters, "I do not!"

"Oh you _so _do," Finn continues to chuckle to himself as he cuts his calorie nightmare in half. "When you met him, all you wanted to do was fuck him. Am I right?" He gives Kurt a cheeky smile.

"I am so not answering that, number one," Kurt replies with a blush staining his cheeks. "And number two, when did you become able-to-freely-talk-about-gay-sex-Finn?"

It was Finn's turn to blush, but that didn't stop him from saying, "You still didn't answer the question."

"I said I wasn't going to," Kurt countered.

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to ruthlessly annoy you about it," Finn grins.

Kurt glares at him, "Fine, I found him…attractive. Distractingly so. Does that suffice?"

Finn just smirks for a moment before a thought obviously crosses his mind. No, really, with Finn you can tell when he's had a moment of thinking. It's like a literal light bulb goes off on top of his head.

"If you can make Noah Puckerman like _you_, then you could make _him_ like _my_ music!" Finn looks at Kurt with eye full of excitement. "It's like a…_sign_ or some shit like that!"

Kurt just gawks at him for a second, "Whoa-whoa wait! Noah Puckerman, number one, is straight. Like _really _straight. Number two, who knows if he'll _ever_ come back. And number three; why in the _hell_ would I do that?"

"Because, Kurt, he's, like, a bagillionaire!" He said loudly. "If you can get with him, my music career is set!" Finn laughed to himself. "I am _so _smart!"

"Oh my god, I have never heard you sound more selfish," Kurt practically hisses.

Finn scoffs, "It isn't _selfish_. You'll be happy with your man, and I'll be happy selling my music! It's like a uh, a uh… oh whatchacallit? Uh…oh! A win/win situation!" Finn beams and takes a huge bite of his sandwich.

"You, my younger step brother, are crazy," Kurt says and throws his empty bottle of water away.

"Not crazy, opportunistic!" Finn mumbles through a full mouth.

Kurt pulls a face and shakes his head. "How do you even know that word? And anyway, I have a date tomorrow."

Finn soured a little at that.

Kurt snorted at his face. "Well you could look at least a little bit happy for me, you know?"

Sighing, Finn says apologetically, "Sorry. Who's this prince you're meeting tomorrow?"

"Blaine Anderson. Apparently he works on Broadway," Kurt sniffs a little at that.

Finn pulls a face, "Where did you meet this..._Blaine. _His name sounds like something you'd hear come out of a prep-school kid's mouth."

Kurt laughed a little, "Yeah, it does, right? I didn't meet him. Quinn set the date up."

"What? Really?" Finn asks, shocked. "Wow. I'm surprised you said yes," he pauses to think for a second. "No, I'm actually kinda mad you said yes. Why did you say yes?"

"Well, we've been civil with each other, Finn. You'd know that if every time I brought her up, you wouldn't tell me point blank that if you ever see her again, you'd rip her apart." Kurt shoots back with a raised eyebrow.

"Bro code, dude," Finn hisses. "She cheated on me…repeatedly. I'm your brother. As my brother, it's only right for you to stop talking to her."

"As your brother, it's only right for me to tell you to grow up! It's been three years. You need to move on!"

"It's not that easy, Kurt!" Finn yells and then takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. But come on, what she did was awful. Cheating on me with her professor for an entire year, just to get ahead in the industry. You know how much that hurt me."

Kurt looked at his brother with sad face. "I know. And I know it's hard for you to forgive, but you have to let it go, Finn. She's changed a lot."

Finn shakes his head, "Yeah, whatever." Changing the subject, he clears his throat, "So are you excited about your…blind date?"

Kurt takes his turn to shake his head. "But I am going to go. I figure what's it going to hurt? I'll waste a few hours with a pompous asshole and then got on with my life…as usual."

Finn studies his brother for a minute. "You sure are one to talk, aren'tcha?"

Kurt fixes him with a glare, "What do you mean by that?"

"You still aren't over Karofsky. You wanna preach to me about letting go?" Finn raises an eyebrow. "I think you need to look in the mirror, bro. Dave is gone and isn't coming back. Ever. He wasn't built for big cities. His dreams literally ended with being a teacher at McKinley." He snorts, "Or at the very least, the football coach."

"I know," Kurt snaps. "I know, okay? I've been busy. That's why I haven't been dating."

"Sure," Finn says disbelievingly.

Kurt rolls his eyes and heads to the door frame. "I'm going to bed, okay? Clean up your mess when you're done, or consider yourself homeless again."

"Yes, Mother Kurt," Finn laughs and then picks up a spoonful of a white looking creamy substance, that he assumed was plain yoghurt out of an open jar. He nods approvingly. "This yoghurt is so good!" he laughs and Kurt turns around only to gape at him in shock.

"Oh my god, Finn! Gross! You're eating mayonnaise right out of the jar," he tells him with disgust.

Finn looks down and turns the jar around to check the label. Hellman's. Huh. He makes a noise and then shrugs before taking another spoonful. Kurt makes a gagging noise and decides he really-_really _needs to go to bed now.

**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**


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